64 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
Loved, and no sin done !  Ay, the world shall see 
The quest is first—a love less terrible. 
 
Yet, as I ride toward the edge of snow 
That cuts the blue, I think.  For even so 
Comes reason to me :  “ Oh, return, return ! 
What folly is it for two souls to burn 
With hell’s own fire !  What is this quest of woe ? 
What is the end ?  Consider and discern ! ” 
 
Banish the thought !  My working reason still 
Is the rebellious vassal to my will. 
Because I will it.  That is God’s own mind. 
I cast all thought and prudence to the wind : 
On, to the quest !  The cursed parrot hill 
Mocks on, on, on !  The thought is left behind. 
 
Night came upon me thus—a wizard hand 
Grasping with silence the reluctant land. 
Through night I clomb—behind me grew the light 
Reflected in the portal of the night. 
I reached the crest at dawn—pallid I stand 
Uncomprehending of the sudden sight. 
 
The river and the bridge !  The river flows, 
Tears of young orphans for its limpid woes. 
The red bridge quivers—how my spirit starts, 
Its seeming glory built of widows’ hearts ! 
And yet I could disdain it—heaven knows 
I had no dear ones for their counterparts.